


Don’t Trade Places with Me

by MetamorphicRocky



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: :), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Iron Dad, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, We all need a hug, but I managed to turn this ball of angst into something that ends happily, spider son, you may begin reading this and think that this cannot end happily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-09 01:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15256074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetamorphicRocky/pseuds/MetamorphicRocky
Summary: “Peter’s breath hitches as a sob bubbles unwanted from the depths of his aching heart. He came back, and it was the happiest and saddest moment of his life because–because—Peter was gone, but Mr. Stark dragged him out of whatever hell he had been stuck in with his bare hands, only to trade places with him mere moments later.”After Peter returns from death after Thanos’s snap, recovering is the most impossible thing.





	Don’t Trade Places with Me

**Author's Note:**

> First Marvel fic. I’m excited. I literally first got into the MCU a week after Infinity War came out and now I am such a big fan. Especially of Iron Dad stuff. 
> 
> Also, I love hurting myself so I wrote this angst mess from like midnight to three AM on my birthday. So happy birthday to me. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!! Trust me, it will end fine.

Peter swings past the buildings of Queens at the fastest pace possible, trying to bring some excitement and joy out of the experience. He goes faster and faster and _faster_ until he miscalculates a web’s trajectory, and he crashes into a roof face-first. 

Peter groans, pushing himself onto his back. His breaths grow heavy as the sounds of his suit rubbing against gravel reminds him of that planet, being tossed around by _him_ and Mr. Stark getting hurt and then Peter—

The boy rips his mask off with a heavy and choked pant, and the panic attack hits with the force of when he was slammed into the surface of an alien planet. His throat closes, his breathing becomes erratic, and the sensation of dying overpowers his senses. The attacks are like his death, plaguing him constantly, never having hope to escape from them. 

Peter desperately claws for control from the ever-present fear alone on a rooftop, lacking needed support. He’s alone. All alone. No one can help him, nor could they ever.

Peter tries to stop the attack through every method he’s ever heard of, but nothing works. It _never works_. So, Peter chokes and drowns silently as the sounds of cars honking and distant people _living_ and the lights of the city invade his senses. He suffers and struggles as the world continues on, and his terror passes as he dissociates away, back to that cold, dark place where he was confused and scared and didn’t know what was _happening, please, sir, please, I don’t wanna go_ —

The attack stops as Peter’s tears begin, fat and warm drops trailing down his reddened, yet pale cheeks. Peter blearily notices that the moon is higher in the sky now, and he knows that it was another long one. Probably the longest, he thinks emptily. 

The memories of feeling his body crumble and wither away haunts him as his crying eyes gaze at the empty Queens sky. He saw people fade away before his eyes when his spidey sense told him that _something_ was wrong, so he fought. He fought so hard and clutched Mr. Stark so tightly that he was hoping and praying that somehow, maybe, he could avoid his fate.

Peter’s breath hitches as a sob bubbles unwanted from the depths of his aching heart. He came back, and it was the happiest and saddest moment of his life because–because—Peter was gone, but Mr. Stark dragged him out of whatever hell he had been stuck in with his bare hands, only to trade places with him mere moments later. 

Peter starts sobbing as the only visible star in the sky is blocked from his view, a small cloud seeming to snuff it out within seconds.

* * *

Peter woke up from hell with the feeling of cold, metal arms holding him in a death grip. The first thing he felt after being resurrected was a hug, the first thing he saw were the arms of an Iron Man suit, and the first sound was a quiet, shaky voice mumbling incoherently into his ear. 

Peter blinked in confusion, and he lifted his head off of the hard shoulder it was resting on to look at the head of the man holding him. Tony Stark. Was holding him in his arms...was this a hug?

Peter’s very confused and tired mind allowed words to come out before his brain was even aware of him even _having_ a mouth.

“This can’t be a hug because you said we weren’t there yet.”

Mr. Stark’s head snapped up to stare at Peter with red eyes, tears lingering on his face. His hair was longer, and he looked older. But as he stared longer at Peter’s open eyes, a tired smile snuck its way onto his face, and some of those stressed wrinkles faded away. 

“Christ, kid. You give me a heart attack, and only _now_ do you finally pick up my wit?” Mr. Stark tried to joke. But Peter could see that he was far from a joking mood. 

Also, Peter had not been joking; he was just very, very confused. 

“It’s a hug, kid,” he said as he tightened his hold on Peter. After a minute of trying to process that _Tony Stark_ was hugging him for a reason he was not aware of, Peter wrapped his arms around the man as well. 

“I like your hugs, Mr. Stark. We should do this more often,” Peter mumbled, still not comprehending what was going on at all. 

Mr. Stark chuckled wetly, cupping the back of Peter’s head against his chest. “I think I can fit it in my schedule.”

A loud noise from behind Mr. Stark startled them both out of the embrace, but Mr. Stark kept an arm placed in front of Peter protectively as he turned around. And holy fuck, there was a battle going on. 

“Mr. Stark, what–?”

The man turned around to stare intensely at Peter, his hands resting on Peter’s small shoulders. “Kid, I need you to stay here and avoid all of this. Stay safe and securely away from the fighting, okay? And I will _not_ tolerate you getting involved, and there will be consequences if you do. So, please, for fuck’s sake, listen to me for once. I’m not losing you again.”

Not allowing Peter to reply to that very confusing order, his mask fell over his face, and Mr. Stark flew away to join the fight. 

Peter sat there, idly watching everything with a few other people who looked as confused as him, but unlike him, those lost people stood and rushed into the fight with little hesitation. Wow, there were a lot of people fighting one really big guy. 

Peter tried his hardest to piece together what the hell was happening, but he gave up when the urge to do something to help overtook him. So without thought, Peter threw himself into the battle. 

None of it made sense, and most of it passed by in a hazy blur of kicking and jumping and swinging. Now, Peter stood there, staring out among everyone else who stood still.

He knew that it was over. They had won. Whatever this was, they won.

Peter smiled tiredly, feeling glad that they won against whoever that was. He looked around to see if anyone else was happy, but he noticed them all gravitating to one spot of the battlefield quickly. Peter wanted to ask Mr. Stark what everyone was going to look at, but he couldn’t see him among the growing clump of people or anyone else, so where—

Peter’s confusion died in an instant as _everything_ suddenly made perfect sense, his heart clawing its way into his throat. He couldn’t breathe, and he was scared, so he ran towards everyone else and pushed his way through the crowd.

Peter burst through the last line of people in his way, hoping beyond belief that Mr. Stark wouldn’t be the one everyone was staring at with a look of sorrow in their eyes. His hopes were crushed instantly as he collapsed next to the Iron Man suit.

Peter’s mask retracted as a sob ripped its way past his throat, the tears slowly trickling from his eyes. He couldn’t–this couldn’t happen! Mr. Stark wasn’t supposed to die! His hands scrabbled for purchase around one of his armored hands, and he held on so tightly that he heard the metal of the suit creak slightly.

“Mr. Stark, please,” Peter sobbed. “Please, you _can’t_.”

“Help is on its way, but I don’t know if he’ll make it until then,” Colonel Rhodes said from somewhere next to Peter. He looked up at the man to see a heartbroken expression on his face; the two were best friends, and Peter felt even more sad at the realization.

Peter’s tears began to fall faster as he worried that Mr. Stark would die here, with Peter able to do literally nothing. The young hero sobbed again, falling against Mr. Stark’s chest plate as he hugged the man with all of his strength.

A pain-filled wheeze was heard by Peter, and he whipped his head up to look at Mr. Stark’s face to see his eyes open, staring right at Peter. Peter stopped breathing as his mentor just stared at him with the saddest expression Peter had ever seen. 

“It’s good...to see...you, kiddo,” Mr. Stark breathed, his voice so quiet that it almost wasn’t there. “Are you okay?”

Peter was shocked into silence that while he was dying, Mr. Stark was still trying to protect him. “I’m fine, but you aren’t.”

The man’s face darkened in pain, and he weakly lifted his arm to retract his suit. With his body now freed of a metal barrier, Mr. Stark used his arm to pull Peter down closer to him. He cupped the back of Peter’s head as his other hand shakily tried to wipe away Peter’s tears.

“Don’t cry, Pete,” he soothed, despite the fact that he was clearly in a lot of pain. “You’re going...to be okay. I know that you’re gonna be the best hero of them all, Underoos.”

Peter sniffled as another sob broke free. “I can’t do it without you. Please, just hold on a little longer,” he pleaded, his vision blurring as he only cried harder. 

Mr. Stark smiled bittersweetly as he used the last of his strength to cup Peter’s face with his bloodied hands. Peter let his mentor bring him into one final, bone-crushing hug, his fingers lost in Peter’s messy curls. 

“I love you, kid.”

And with those final words, his fingers went slack in Peter’s hair as his eyes closed, his smile slipping off of his features. Peter made a pained noise as he clutched his mentor in his arms, sobbing so loudly that it hurt his own ears. Mumbling grieving words of _no_ and _please_ as if Peter’s will alone could bring him back. 

He cried into his mentor’s shirt until someone pulled him away, allowing medics to take Mr. Stark’s body away in a last ditch attempt to save him. Peter stayed on the ground where another one of the people he cared about had died, crying and screaming until he passed out.

* * *

Peter stood at the funeral two weeks later with one of Aunt May’s arms wrapped around him protectively. 

The funeral had taken so long because the world was in chaos after...everything. When half of the population suddenly reappeared after being gone for years and the ensuing battle, it was only natural that things weren’t running smoothly.

Peter had spent those past two weeks either crying or trying not to cry, and he was exhausted. Nightmares, mourning, and panic attacks were all draining him because he didn’t want to sleep, and when he did, he would just wake up immediately afterwards. 

He wasn’t listening to whoever was talking because he was desperately trying to imagine that none of this was happening, or that someone else, not his beloved mentor who became more despite his numerous protests against that claim, was in that coffin. Peter wanted nothing more than to stop losing the adults in his life that he cared about, between his parents, his Uncle Ben, and now....

As numb as Peter was at the moment, he still sobbed into Aunt May’s shoulder when people close to Mr. Stark spoke. Ms. Potts, Colonel Rhodes, and Happy were the ones who spoke the most, and who highlighted the best things about Mr. Stark that no one ever saw. 

Some Avengers spoke, and many others did as well. Peter’s mind actually picked up on the fact that so many media outlets had come to the funeral, and he had enough awareness to know that it was wrong that they were profiting over a man’s death. Especially the man who had saved them all, and who they had spent years ridiculing and spreading rumors about. 

His Aunt May squeezed him close as they buried him, comforting him through his loss. She hadn’t been a fan of Mr. Stark at the beginning, but they had formed an odd kind of friendship through trying to not let Peter get killed. Peter noticed that she was mourning as well, but her pain was much less than Peter’s.

They stayed until the very end of the service when the only people lingering were the people closest to him. Ms. Potts came up to him and May, giving Peter a hug that he barely returned. May hugged the woman in turn, offering words of comfort lost on Peter as Happy and Colonel Rhodes came to him. They both clapped him on the shoulder comfortingly that painfully reminded Peter of Mr. Stark, and he had to use all of his strength to not start crying again. 

“Peter, Tony would want you to know that he was willing to do whatever it took to bring you back,” Colonel Rhodes said softly. “I hadn’t seen him as heartbroken as he was after you were gone in years. He tore apart the universe just to see you again, and I know that he didn’t regret his actions to do so. So don’t blame yourself.”

Peter pointedly stared at the ground as his vision blurred again. “It isn’t worth it if he isn’t here,” Peter said emotionlessly.

Rhodes squeezed his shoulder one last time. “It’ll be better soon, Peter. I promise.”

* * *

A few weeks after the funeral, and it’s summer. He hadn’t gone to school at all because of obvious reasons, and May has to figure it out before fall. It has been five years since the last time he was in school, and all of his classmates are in college now. 

Peter sits curled up in the passenger seat of May’s car, his earbuds blasting music as loud as possible to drown out his thoughts. He barely notices the beauty of the country scenery they pass as they drive to go visit some very distant relative Peter’s never heard anything about.

He thinks that May is tired of seeing Peter sulk and refuse to do anything except go out as Spiderman and wants a change of scenery, and for Peter to not be exposed to a city where all they do is mention the death of Tony Stark every three seconds. He catches May’s eye as she glances nervously at him, and Peter knows immediately that he’s right.

He feels horrible for making May worry and be upset, but nothing has worked. Peter has tried to work around the grief, but moving on only makes it worse. 

Sometimes, Peter wishes that if this was how things were always going to end, then he should have stayed dead. 

“Peter. Honey, we’re here.”

Peter quickly glances at May, then looks at the rural country house in front of him. It’s big and looks nice, he can admit. Only lush fields surround the house, and it’s the most serene place Peter has ever seen. 

He looks back at May, and she cusps his weary face in her gentle hands. She rubs small, comforting circles on his cheeks with her thumbs, a small smile gracing her lips. “I can get the bags, so you go on inside, okay?”

Peter nods, getting out of the car and walking to the porch. He opens the surprisingly unlocked door, toeing off his shoes next to the doorway. Peter looks around to see that the house is very simple, yet home-y. He somehow begins to relax just being in the place, and it’s the oddest sensation.

Peter notices what seems to be the living room and walks into it. It’s as relaxing as the rest of the house seems, with arm chairs, a couch with Tony Stark anxiously sitting on it, and a bookshelf—

Wait.

What.

Peter slowly turns back to the couch, his hands beginning to shake. And sure enough, there sits Tony Stark, looking incredibly worried, his hands shaking as well. It’s so silent that Peter can hear his racing heart beat.

“Hey, kid,” Mr. Stark says lamely.

Peter is speechless. His mouth opens and closes, desperately searching for something to say, but what can he say in a situation like this? So, his mentor isn’t dead like he thought? Well, that’s neat, how’s the weather?

“I–You died,” Peter says, his words choking on the lump in his throat. 

Mr. Stark laughs humorlessly. “I didn’t die, I just went to go live on a farm upstate.”

Peter flounders like a fish, and the tears come very quickly. Mr. Stark seems about ready to lose his composure that he clearly placed a lot of effort into keeping for this conversation, so he stands up from the couch with a small wince.

His arms open wide, his eyes as glassy as Peter’s must be. “Come here, Underoos.”

Peter crashes into the man’s arms, causing them to both fall into the couch. Peter clings onto him for dear life as Mr. Stark does the same, carding a shaking hand through Peter’s unruly curls. Peter buries his face into the man’s chest while he’s tucked underneath Mr. Stark’s chin.

The two are openly sobbing as they gain comfort in each other’s presence after so long without them. Peter is holding the man so much tighter than he did on Titan because himself dying is apparently a better option than having to live without Mr. Stark. And Peter notices that his mentor feels the same way, his arms holding him almost being too tight.

But that doesn’t matter, because the two are both _alive_ and together and nothing else will ever matter because they will be okay. Even after everything, Peter believes that with all of his heart. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner, kid. I decided to retire, and faking my death was the only way to make sure that no one tried anything,” Mr. Stark says, his voice choked by tears. 

“But, the battle–and you–,” Peter asks.

“That was real. I was dead on and off that first week afterwords. I would have told you immediately, but Rhodey said I would have strained my injuries if you were around.”

Mr. Stark laughs wetly, and Peter does, too. The laughs are incredibly sad, and Peter’s turns into more sobbing as he grounds himself in the present, in his mentor’s arms. 

“I missed you, Tony,” Peter cries. 

“Oh, so all it took was for the both of us to die for you to finally call me Tony, huh?” he teases, earning another quiet laugh from Peter. “I missed you every single day, kid. So much.”

Peter burrows further into the embrace, relishing in the warmth and the respite he gains from the relaxing sound of his strong heartbeat. 

“I think you owe me for making me think that you were dead,” Peter says semi-jokingly.

“But you don’t owe me?”

Peter shakes his head, earning a fondly exasperated eye roll from Tony. There are still tears in the man’s eyes, and Peter knows that he probably looks just as haggard and despaired.

“If you’re gonna live on a farm, we need to get a dog.”

“A dog?” Tony laughs, a genuine laugh that makes Peter smile. 

“I was thinking some kind of farm dog. Like a border collie. And then maybe we could get some sheep, possibly start a business.”

Tony laughs again, and now he can’t stop laughing as he gently flicks Peter in the forehead. Peter can’t remember a time where Tony had ever laughed so much, and it doesn’t take long for Peter to join in. 

“I’ll think about the border collie, Underoos. But I think we’ll have to cap it at that.”

Peter hugs Tony tighter as the man ruffles his hair softly. Peter lifts his head up to see Tony smiling down at him fondly, and Peter smiles back. He has never been happier than this moment, to know that he didn’t lose someone else to the Parker Luck. He feels that everything will be fine, and with Tony Stark back, he knows it’s true.

“I guess I can deal with only you and a dog, Tony.”

Because nothing will ever surpass being with his mentor again, and Peter hopes this moment lasts forever.


End file.
